


Trauma Alert

by invictofiction



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Battle Injuries, Gen, Paramedic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:28:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictofiction/pseuds/invictofiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales from the paramedics of SHIELD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trauma Alert

“You know …” Jo started as she surveyed the damage in the area. “If you thought that downtown needed some renovation, there are- well I won’t say better or faster ways, but maybe more proper?” Clint only groaned and flipped Jo a set of middle fingers. “Oh, that’s cute. I get the theme you’re going for, birdguy.” Clint laughed a little, before he was overcome with a deep, rattling cough. Jo suspected that was a combination of inhaling debris and just general post fight ‘yuck’. She made her way through the gravel and chunks of asphalt towards her patient. “What hurts, what happened, and did you get knocked out?” Jo knelt down next to Clint and took it all in. Cap had called the medics in, and had focused the rest of his team on getting the threats cleared from the area, so Jo and her team could work with relative safety.

He was breathing, conscious for now, alert and oriented. “Helping civilians from combat zone, SUV slammed into a stopped vehicle, which dominoed into the sedan I was clearing and it knocked me around. I ..” Clint paused to cough and tried to scrub the dirt out of his eye, but Jo took his hands from his face, gently, and shook her head “You’ll scratch your corneas, let us flush your eyes.” Clint complied slowly, reluctant to give up even that little bit of autonomy. “I must have lost consciousness, I don’t remember hitting the ground.” 

Clint was trained, as much as any adult or Avenger could be, to be compliant to the Medics- Don’t move, answer all questions truthfully, and comply, comply, comply. They weren’t on scene because they liked it (Though what Paramedic would say they didn’t get joy from the thrill?), they were there to get the team back up and running so they could spare more person and property. Some people, unfortunately, needed it more often and more seriously than others. 

“Okay, just stay still, and we’ll get you sorted.” Jo motioned for her medic team to begin their examination. “You didn’t tell me what hurts, Clint. Where were you struck?”

“Are the civilians okay?”

Jo let out a breath, but she fully understood the priority. “They’re fine, there wasn’t actually anyone in the SUV, I checked.”

Clint took a moment, and closed his eyes. “Uh- my ribs. Left side, lower left leg, too, and middle of my back all hurt. Maybe 4/10, constant. My back is the worst, though, probably 6 or 7.”

Jo snapped her fingers towards the immobilization gear and her team got into motion. They’d indicated that there was no gross bleeding nor any obvious deformities noted. “Clint, you know the drill; we’re getting you out of here.” Clint sighed. He hated the immobilization board; it hurt. The team of medics were a flurry of motion and sound, simultaneously securing Clint and telling Jo everything she needed.

The baddie of the week was still tearing shit up a few blocks away, so the medical team moved pretty fast to get him packaged and into the waiting quinn jet. Jo watched them for a moment before she turned and spoke into her radio. “Medic six is activating Trauma Alert; load and go with Hawkeye. Positive LOC, complaints of back pain, mid thoracic and rated at a 6 and constant, left side rib pain, no deformities noted, and lower left leg pain both at 4. Patient is A&O, but does not recall moment of impact. ETA 15 minutes, repeat- trauma alert.” There was only so many times Jo could corner Director Fury’s staff and complain about the lack of head protection some of the team had. 

Jo jogged over to the jet to get her gear and began setting up various IV fluids and medications as the medics carried him to the cot, which was rather more comfortable than your typical EMS cot. It was the immobilization board and gear that was the real bummer- nothing made that better. “Clint, I’m starting some lines, okay, and we’ll get that pain under control in just a minute. Just remind me, any allergies to medications?”

Jo knew the answer, of course, but she continued to ask benign questions to make sure that Clint’s level of consciousness stayed about the same and that he continued to remember important information.

“Just to the weak shit, Doc.”

Jo make a face at Clint over the saline bag she was spiking. “Funny.” She hung the bag from the bag hook in the ceiling over Clint’s right shoulder. “Vitals please? Also get him out of that uniform; at least from the waist up, but double check the blood sweep.” She said to the air, knowing one of the other medics would fill it in. Her medic minions moved around the cot, cutting the uniform from Clint’s torso, but kept him strapped to the board.

“142/88, pulse 110, respirations 16 and unlabored, except for the cough, but lungs are clear and equal bilaterally. Eyes equal and reactive to light.”

“Gimme your arm.” Jo asked as she took a seat on Clint’s right side. He lifted his arm and Jo grinned, a little.

One of the things she absolutely loved about this gig was that nearly everyone had amazing vasculature. No tourniquet needed, generally. “Paige, get me Fentanyl, please.” Jo asked as she cleaned Clint’s arm. IV was placed without issue, and she flushed 10 ccs of saline to double check everything was okay. With his pressure, she didn’t need to dump any fluids into him, but it was there just in case he suddenly decompensated. “Alrighty, Clint, how much do you weigh these days?” She asked as she attached the drip set to the saline lock. Jo set the rate to KVO, and took the Fentanyl bottle from Paige; they verified the medication and date together.

“I think about 220?” Clint guessed as he lifted his arm to look at the crook of his elbow and then wiggled his fingers experimentally. “Alright?” Jo asked. “Yeah. It’s just been a while since I’ve been injured.”

“Hey-“ Jo pulled up 50 micrograms of the narcotic, and attempted to distract him from where ever his mind was trying to wander. “Just relax. This is Fentanyl, okay? This will help pretty quickly, Clint. We’re already airborne and before you know it, we’ll have you scanned and you’ll be picking out Iron Man band aids.”

Jo put her free hand on his forehead for a moment of reassurance, before she gave the pain medication, slowly, and a flush of saline behind it. “How’s that?” She asked about two minutes later. Jo kept an eye on the lifepak and watched as his BP dropped a few points, but didn’t really budge after that.

“Better.” Clint said as he visibly relaxed.

“Wiggle your toes for me, will you?” Jo looked down the cot and after a moment, saw wiggly toes. Good. Her team had checked before, but no harm in a little redundancy. “Rate that back pain again, please.”

“Eh.. 4/10”

“Not bad. You let me know if you need the rest of the dose. You’re stable enough that it shouldn’t be an issue.” Clint wasn’t going to abuse it like, say, Tony might, and Jo trusted that Clint would be honest with her about his pain.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC, probably. Really just a personal interest of mine, I love being a paramedic and I'm generally really curious about why these dudes aren't injured more. 
> 
> Lets injure these dudes and see what happens, shall we?
> 
> Any truly gruesome injuries will be tagged, so be sure to read that junk.


End file.
